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He walks through his living room and onto the back patio, where a fire roars to life. I take the seat across from him, the fire eating up half his image. He lights a cigarette, cupping his lips around the end as he looks at me. Slowly, he blows the smoke out. “Because you’re my sister.”
Time stops, my heartbeat receding. Denials on my tongue like venom waiting to be spit out. “What?”
He nods. “You’re my sister.”
I shake my head. “That’s not possible. My mom and dad only had me.”
“That’s true, but your mom is not your biological mom.”
It feels as if some invisible force takes my breath away, it hurts to breathe. “Don’t fucking say that to me,” I plead. Images of my mom flash through my mind. Her smile, how she danced with me and read me stories before bed. The look on her face when… Something between a sob and a whimper bursts past my lips.
Vance looks to his feet, taking another hit. “Do you want the full story, or would you like to keep living in ignorant bliss?”
I rise, walking over to take the seat next to his, swiping away my tears, but my chest is still raw and achy, making it hard to breathe. Snatching his barely smoked cigarette, I bring it to my mouth. He glares, reaching for another. “Tell me the story.” I’m not a smoker, but every now and then, I have dabbled in the habit. And right now feels like one of those times I need a smoke.
“Your mother and father we’re a part of The Misfits. Don’t ask me questions about that, though. That’s Beckett’s choice to answer. I’m only telling you my part.” I nod, inhaling. “As you can guess, they were all friends. We actually have the same mother.”
“Fuck, my dad was a cheater?” Even as the words leave my mouth, denial is close to follow.
“Nah, Soulless. Our parents were swingers and, well, you happened. But your mom, she was super ecstatic from what my mom told me. Your parents had problems conceiving, so when you were born, it was a huge blessing. My mom gladly handed you over to yours. And there wasn’t a moment from the time you touched her arms that you weren’t hers.” My vision grows burry and my lip trembles. “I don’t think she could have loved you more if you came out of her. And since we were such a tight-knit group, you and I grew up as brother and sister. Well, until, you know.”
“It’s crazy. I felt a connection with you, had a moment when it felt as if I knew you, but I couldn’t pull the memories from my mind.”
“You went through some shit, Brixley. No one faults you for erasing the memories your childhood.”
“If she was my biological mother, why did I not live with you growing up?” I ask.
Vance heaves a deep sigh. “Because the deal was, my mother signed away her rights. Legally, she had no rights to you. Your mom’s and dad’s wills stated you were to go to Beth if anything happened to them. And honestly, I think she is what was best for you.”
“So, the whole group… I’ve known them my whole life?”
“Yes.”
“Do you… do you have pictures of us?” He nods, taking a hit. “Can I see them?” I ask.
“Only if you’re ready for a whole lot of truth.” I nod hesitantly. “All right, I’ll be back.”
Vance isn’t gone long, as if the pictures were set on his coffee table all along. He sits a thick black book—a photo album—on my lap. There is no dust on it, as if he looks at it often. My fingers shake as I open the book. The first picture is of a small boy, maybe two or three years old, holding a tiny baby bundled in a thick purple blanket. The boy smiles wide at the camera, pure happiness on his face. Toddler Vance is cute and sweet-looking, a harsh contrast to the man sitting beside me. I take another hit before flipping the page. There is a picture of Vance and I asleep together on the floor. I seem to be a little older now. A few months, possibly. The next picture makes me giggle—I’m walking at this point. I have my chunky hands on Vance’s cheeks, my mouth open as if I’m laughing at him. There is radiating joy on my face as he looks at me like I’m the best thing ever. The pictures continue, each of us getting older. Holidays like Christmases and Halloweens. But I pause on the picture of me and a girl a little older. We both wear princess costumes, and I would know those cheekbones anywhere. “Amiyah,” I whisper.
“Yeah, as you got older, you realized she was more fun than I was. She’d paint your nails and do your hair. I only had cars and video games to offer you.”
I smile. “She’s still more fun than you.”
He laughs. “Doubtful.”
I look over the other pictures, they’re mainly Vance and me. Some pictures of Amiyah and I, and three little boys in the background. But at the age of seven, something shifts. And my lungs squeeze when I see it. Him. “Is that Beckett?”
“Yep. Been fighting that fucker off you for years. Around the time you were seven, I couldn’t stop him anymore. You both had this connection I couldn’t seem to break. No matter how many times I beat him up, he kept coming back.”
Memories flood my mind. A slideshow of my childhood flashing by in giggles and games of hide-and-seek.
You may not remember, but I do.
I gasp, my eyes welling with tears as I look over to Vance. “Holy shit. You’re my brother.”
He swallows the emotion in his throat, blinking it from his eyes. “Hi, Soulless.” I fling my body to his, my head in the crook of his shoulder as my body shakes, sobs from deep in my soul spilling onto his shirt. His bear-like arms wrap around me, and he squeezes me tight.
“I knew I had a connection with you… How could I just forget?”
